Reunion

by Karen Ball

  “Great!” Harry looked like the Cheshire cat. “I knew you wouldn’t let me down. After all, Wyoming has a lot of unexplored wilderness. Heck, it’s the least populated state in the union! It’s nothing but unexplored wilderness. And what better time to go than in the spring when all the pretty flowers are blooming.” He pulled a face. “Just be sure to credit me for leading you to what are sure to be award-winning photos.” A sly grin creased his face. “And maybe the love of your life.”

  Connor ignored that. “And if the wolves really are there?”

  “Then we notify Wyoming Fish and Game or our friends at U.S. Fish and Wildlife, and we send one of our teams to the area to start a host of public education and awareness programs.” Harry leaned forward. “If there’s even one wolf out there, we’ll do our best to put people’s fears to rest, and hopefully keep our furry friend from ending up as a rug on someone’s floor.”

  “Or buried beneath the daisies in someone’s backyard.”

  “So, it’s settled then. Here are your tickets.” Harry slapped an envelope down on the desk in front of Connor. “You leave tomorrow at 7:00 A.M. Sharp.”

  Connor looked from the tickets to Harry’s expectant face, then gave in with a resigned chuckle.

  Harry beamed. “There’s a rental car waiting for you at the airport. A Jeep Wrangler from Rent-A-Wreck, I think. Wouldn’t take anything less than a four-wheeler into that area! See Irene about your expense check—” A pained expression crossed his face—“and try to keep costs down, Con. Your last trip almost broke us. That money tree we planted in the backyard still hasn’t bloomed.”

  “I don’t know why not.” Connor took the ticket and started for the door. “There’s enough horse manure flying around this office to keep a dozen trees in bloom.”

  THREE

  “TAYLOR MOIRA, YOU’RE AN AMAZING AND COURAGEOUS woman!”

  Taylor cocked an eyebrow and looked over her shoulder at her brother, Ryan. He sat at the kitchen table, his booted feet resting on her clean tablecloth, his chair balanced on the back two legs.

  “Clearly a lead-in of some sort, Taylor.” Lisa, Ryan’s wife, grimaced at her from her seat next to Ryan. “I’d avoid it if I were you.”

  “You’re probably right, but I can’t resist.” Taylor turned to her brother. “So I’m amazing and courageous, am I?”

  He waggled his eyebrows at her and grinned. “Either that or you’re plumb daft.”

  “She’s not daft!” This quick defense came from Ryan’s eleven-year-old son Mark.

  Taylor leaned toward him with a smile. “Of course I’m not, sweetie. And I’m glad you’re smarter than your daddy and can see that.”

  Ryan snorted, then yelped when someone delivered a sharp rap to the back of his head. He turned wrathfully, then stopped in midrant when he spotted his mother standing behind him. At her slightly reproachful expression, he turned sheepishly to take a drink of his coffee.

  “Really, Ryan,” Donelle Camus chided as she moved to the stove to pour hot water into a mug. “I should think you’d try to be a better example for your sons. Instead, you sit in your chair like a monkey, put your filthy boots on the table, and talk to your sister in tones that could hardly be considered respectful. Sasha is exhibiting better manners than you are.”

  At the sound of her name, the black-and-white Siberian husky who was curled up in the corner of the kitchen, her bushy tail draped over her nose, lifted her head and fixed her intense blue gaze on Taylor’s mother.

  Taylor laughed. “Never mind, Sash. Mom doesn’t have any treats for you.”

  The Siberian’s velvety pointed ears perked, and her gaze switched to Taylor expectantly, her tail giving one hopeful thump.

  “Oh, dear, you used the t word.” Her mother chuckled as Taylor knelt to scratch the dog’s broad head.

  It was always fun to have her family visit—which happened often since her parents also lived on Galloway Glen, about a half-mile away in a log home of their own, and Ryan and Lisa lived just a few miles down the road. Some people might not like having their family so close, but Taylor loved it.

  “Now, Ryan, where were we …?” Their mother looked pensive. “Oh yes. Your manners.” Her gaze rested pointedly on his feet. “Or should I say, the lack thereof?”

  Taylor couldn’t restrain her grin. At fifty-seven, her mother was one of those women who always seemed at ease. Her dark curly hair was cut in a flattering short cap, and Taylor thought the occasional fleck of silver only added a touch of sophistication. Mom’s green eyes sparkled with humor and wisdom, and her manner was warm and welcoming to anyone she encountered. Taylor knew all too well that little escaped her mother’s notice, though she seldom offered advice where it wasn’t requested. The emotional anchor of their tight-knit family, Donelle Camus was the very picture of elegance, vitality, and patience. All factors that made her especially effective when dealing with her spirited, fun-loving children.

  “You’re absolutely right, Mother mine.” Ryan removed his offending feet from the table and set his chair in place, then gave Taylor an intent look. “Now let me see.” His brow creased in concentration. “There must be something respectful I can say about you.”

  Taylor shot him a glare, tempted to throw the dish sponge right between his twinkling eyes.

  “Come on, Dad!” Mikey, Mark’s twin brother, urged. “How ’bout saying she’s pretty?”

  “Okay, guys, time for another topic of—” But Lisa didn’t have a chance. The twins were off before she could finish.

  “Yeah!” Mark clapped his hands. “Her hair’s pretty too. Same color as Chestnut, and all shiny, just like his coat after we treat it for a show.”

  Ryan considered his sons. “Okay, I can go for that. Taylor, you’re as pretty as a greased-up show horse.”

  Temptation won out. The sponge hurtled through the air and connected with a satisfying, squishy thud squarely in the center of Ryan’s broad, muscular chest.

  “Taylor!” her mother scolded, but this time she had little effect. The twins exploded into laughter as their father vaulted out of his chair and went after his sister, who fended him off with another sopping sponge.

  Seeing that her offspring were out of control, Donelle settled back in her chair and sipped her tea.

  “Better not hurt her, Dad, or Sasha will take your leg off!” But the Siberian was far too accustomed to such events. She was lying, unconcerned, her head resting on her paws.

  “Well, I thought for sure we were in the midst of World War III,” a deep voice remarked from the doorway, “but I see Mother has her tea, so all must be right with the world.”

  Taylor, who was locked in her brother’s bear hug and suspended a good foot off the floor, grinned at her father. “All’s right except that Ryan is being his typical, juvenile self.”

  “Right! You’re an angel. That’s why my shirt is soaking wet and smells like dirty dishes.”

  “Exactly.”

  Taylor’s father stepped into the kitchen, his amusement evident.

  Lisa smiled sweetly at Ryan. “You can’t say you didn’t ask for it.”

  “Ryan, be a good lad and put your sister down, please”—their father took the seat next to his wife—“so she can tend to her duties as hostess.”

  “And do it gently, dear,” their mother cautioned, seeing the gleam in her son’s eyes at his father’s request.

  With a disappointed sigh, Ryan lowered his sister to the floor. She tossed him a triumphant smirk and went to hug her father. His blue eyes were bright with merriment as he hugged her back.

  She loved the way her father looked. Tall, broad shouldered, and solid. He had more the appearance of a lumberjack than a minister, but his gentle eyes were a clear window to a heart that was totally dedicated to serving the Lord. Taylor had seen the way that her father’s devotion to God, his quick sense of humor, and his caring heart could win over even the most cantankerous parishioner. He was uniquely designed to shepherd God’s people.

&nbs
p; “Thanks, Daddy. You know how hard it is to control the brute. Not even Lisa’s wonderful influence has made him fit for civilized company.”

  Ryan ignored Taylor, choosing instead to walk back to his seat and lift his coffee cup, holding the handle between his forefinger and thumb, keeping his pinkie out.

  “Oh, yuck, Dad!” Mark and Mikey protested together. “You look like a sissy!”

  “Not at all, my dear lads,” he replied in affected tones. “I’m simply being snivilized.”

  “Ry, old boy, read my lips.” Taylor blew a less-than-ladylike raspberry.

  “Uh-oh, Dad, sounds like a grudge to me!” Ryan’s expression was full of mock horror.

  Taylor fixed him with a glare. “Why don’t you just sit there and—”

  But Ryan held up a hand, cutting her off. “Father, if you please. Your wayward child is in desperate need of words of truth and wisdom.”

  Taylor looked at her father. “Dad! Don’t you dare …”

  Her father merely smiled serenely, his eyes brimming with laughter, then tilted his head and tapped his chin with a long forefinger, as though deep in thought. “Ah, I have it. ‘Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and loved—’ ”

  “ ‘Dearly loved,’ ” his wife pointed out, and he looked at her, a slight frown creasing his brow.

  “ ‘Dearly’? Are you sure?”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake!”

  Sasha started at Taylor’s blurted comment, jumped up, cast her mistress one disgusted look, and padded from the room—most likely to find some peace and quiet.

  “Taylor, please.” Her mother’s smile was the epitome of patience. “Your father is talking. You should know better than to interrupt.” She turned back to her husband. “ ‘Dearly loved.’ ”

  In good-humored assent he went on, “ ‘Holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience—’ ”

  “Nobody could have all that with this family.” Taylor crossed her arms.

  “ ‘Bear with each other—’ ” her father’s voice raised in mock sternness—“ ‘and forgive whatever grievances you have against one another. Forgive as the Lord forgave you—’ ”

  “Now, there’s a wonderful idea,” Taylor’s mother joined in. Taylor merely huffed in response.

  “ ‘And over all these virtues—’ ”

  “I know, I know …” Taylor crossed her arms. “ ‘Put on love.’ ”

  Her dad gave her an indulgent smile. “Good counsel, don’t you think?”

  Ryan clapped his hands. “Perfect choice, Father dear. Colossians always has been one of my favorites. Especially for putting one certain brat in her place.”

  Taylor studied her family. “Has anyone ever told you people that weird runs in this family? Because it does. It definitely does.”

  At her father’s laugh, Taylor leaned over to give him a hug. “You’re a beast, Dad. I can see where Ryan gets it from.” She kissed his cheek. “Now, how ’bout some tea?”

  “Coffee will do me fine.” Her father leaned back and slid his arm along the back of his wife’s chair. “And you can tell me what started the ruckus this morning.”

  “Dad said Aunt Taylor looked like a horse,” Mikey replied around a mouthful of Cheerios.

  At his father’s raised eyebrows, Ryan grinned. “I said she was as pretty as a show horse, to be exact. But that’s not really what started the whole thing. It was Taylor taking exception to my calling her daft, which I still think she is.”

  “And why, exactly, is that?” Taylor asked in saccharine tones as she poured her father’s coffee.

  Ryan regarded her with humor mixed with compassion. “Because you’re determined to push ahead with the repairs and preparations for the upcoming retreat season.”

  Taylor gave a nonchalant lift of her shoulders, setting the cup of hot liquid in front of her father. “It’s only May, Ry. There’s plenty of time to get things done before July. I don’t want to delay the opening this year.”

  “Why?”

  His quiet question stopped her cold. She could give him a million reasons, but she knew he’d see through them all. No matter what she said, Ryan would know she wanted to push ahead because she needed to. She couldn’t stand being immersed in grief and letting life pass her by any longer. She met his understanding gaze.

  He leaned forward to touch her arm. “Sis, I know how much these retreats mean to you. And normally I’d be behind you a 110 percent; you know that.”

  Taylor knew it was true. Ryan was one of her staunchest supporters. He always had been. For as long as she could remember, he’d been there to cheer her on, to offer encouragement, or just to listen.

  “But to push ahead with your plans when you know you’ll have to handle a lot of the preparations yourself …” He shrugged. “I’m just not sure it’s wise.”

  Taylor started to reply, but her father spoke up first. “Ryan may be right, Taylor. Don’t you think you should give yourself more than a few months to get things done? There’s a lot to accomplish, hon, and not enough people to do it.”

  Taylor looked at her father considering his words, then shook her head. “I don’t know, Dad.” She was a bit surprised at how tired she sounded. “I just know I don’t want to put the retreats off again.”

  Silence fell over the room as she went to perch on the counter and sip her cocoa. She was touched that her family was so concerned about her yet determined to stick to her plans. If there was one thing Taylor Sorensen was not, it was a quitter. Especially when it came to the retreats she and Josh had developed, designed especially to give families in ministry a place to be refreshed and nurtured.

  With her family’s help, she and Josh had built small, cozy cabins just east of the ranch house and converted the old bunkhouse into a caretaker’s cabin for Luke Narbona.

  Luke had been a part of Galloway Glen for as long as Taylor could remember. He’d come to the ranch as a young man to work for her grandfather and had never left. When her father married her mother, Luke had helped open the way for her father to be accepted in his new congregation. When Ryan and Taylor came along, Luke appointed himself their guard and playmate.

  Taylor had been Luke’s shadow since she started walking. And, as though recognizing the girl’s lonely spirit, Luke took her under his wing. He regaled her with tales of his Navajo ancestors, taught her the Songs of Talking to God, and listened as she shared her thoughts and dreams.

  When Luke heard about Josh and Taylor’s plans for retreats on Galloway Glen, he had been full of creative ideas for transforming the ranch into a retreat center, for making things work more smoothly and efficiently. He’d even helped out with the public relations and advertising, commandeering several local young people to help send out mailings and put up flyers.

  So far, the retreats had been a success. Numbers had grown steadily, and now Taylor had families scheduled for a year in advance. Because of Josh’s death, however, she’d had to cancel last year’s sessions. She’d been too emotionally raw, unable to go ahead with their dream without Josh.

  Now … now she was ready to start again. It was time to get on with life.

  Which was why she was so hesitant to delay the much needed work or the start of the coming retreat season just because her work crew was deserting her.

  Ryan came over and slipped his arm around her shoulders. “I’m not trying to be the voice of doom here, Sis, but facts are facts. When we’re all here, we can divide the work into reasonable amounts. But with this wilderness expedition Dad and the boys and I are going on, and Lisa heading out to visit her folks for a while, you’re pretty much on your own.”

  Ryan worked as a guide for Wilderness Outfitters, an operation that took people on expeditions into the wilds of Wyoming. Ryan’s love for and knowledge of the out-of-doors and his easygoing manner had made him a favorite of the firm’s clients. Because of that, the company let him take his family for a trip once a year. This year he was taking the twins and
his father on a rafting expedition.

  “You and Dad will be back in three weeks, Ry. And I’ve handled at least a week or more of the preparation on my own in previous years.”

  “No, not on your own.” Ryan’s quiet correction stopped her, and her throat constricted. Ryan went on. “Josh was here. He was able to take on a lot of the physical work and leave the administration to you and Mom. But that’s changed now.”

  Taylor fell silent. It was hard to believe it had been a year and a half since Josh’s death. It frustrated her that every time she thought she was finally getting used to him being gone, the reality would once again sucker punch her and leave her feeling empty and cold. Well, this time it wasn’t going to get to her. She had spent the last eighteen months doing her best to get along on her own, and she wasn’t going to let this setback make her feel hopeless again.

  “I’m sorry, Sis. I just want you to take a realistic look at the situation. As much as you’d like to think you can, you can’t do it all yourself.”

  “It’s okay, Ry.” She willed her voice to be steady. “You’re right. Josh took up a lot of the slack. But I’ve still got Luke. He can help some, even if he isn’t as young as he used to be.” She surveyed her family’s concerned faces. If only they wouldn’t worry so … “Besides, I already realized things were going to be a bit much this year. So I took the proverbial bull by the horns—”

  “There’s a bull here?” Mark looked up with interest.

  “Not a real bull, dummy. A figrative one.”

  Taylor just grinned at Mikey’s oh-so-superior tone and went on. “—and put an ad in the paper for a temporary handyman and ranch hand.”

  At the stunned silence in the room, her grin broadened.

  It didn’t happen often, but the Camus clan was speechless—and the fact that she was the one who’d rendered them so brought Taylor a surge of gleeful triumph.

  For once in her life, she’d actually had the last word!

  FOUR

  “DON’T LOOK SO SHOCKED, EVERYONE,” TAYLOR FINALLY SAID into the silence. “I can show common sense from time to time.”